


Meaner Than My Demons

by ScarletDestiny



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya needs to discover herself, F/M, Gendry is the best, Gendrya - Freeform, Slow Burn, arya is a badass, depictions of ptsd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-24 21:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletDestiny/pseuds/ScarletDestiny
Summary: List finished, enemies buried six-feet under, vengeance earned, Arya Stark ought to be rejoicing in her newfound freedom. Instead, she finds herself running from all reminders of what she has done, trying desperately to learn who she is without revenge at the forefront of her mind. Exploring the West seems as good an idea as any.Plagued by nightmares, however, Arya returns to Westeros a shell of her former self. Unwilling to face her family in such a state, she lands at StormsEnd where she discovers that one's future is not determined by the past.





	1. Chapter One: Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors

Twilight had long since faded, leaving the godswood cast in endless shadow as clouds moved to cover the moon. Only faint light from far-away stars reached the earth and sprinkled Arya’s path. She didn’t need the light tonight. 

Breaths coming in ragged gasps, she ran on, hardly knowing how long she had already been running from the shades that followed closely on her heels. Branches whipped her face, shallow cuts stung as cool air brushed against the wounds. With each breath, the pain in her ribs grew more intense. Right hand pressed against her side to staunch the flow of the blood, her left hand gripped Needle tightly. 

_ Fear cuts deeper than swords _ . The words whispered through the air, spoken by the voice of Syrio Forel from behind the grave. 

Yet no matter how many times the words reached her ears, fear continued to spur her onwards, away from the shadows that were growing ever closer, threatening to swallow her whole. Trees reached out their grasping hands, eager to entangle her in their branches. Roots tried to snare her feet as she stumbled ever forward.

Her destination was unclear: her only thought to  _ get away.  _

No matter how quickly she ran, the shades were always close on her heels. Their ghostly forms glistened behind her when she dared to glance back. Sightless eyes stared at her greedily. Mouths open in a continuous wail, blood dripping from every pore as they floated above the ground. 

They were going to catch her. 

Tightening her hold on Needle, her palm split with the pressure, blood slickening her hand. She would not be defeated. 

“Not today,” she whispered to herself, repeating it over and over again as a mantra as she dodged left and right, barely managing to avoid the grasping trees and roots ready to send her tumbling to the ground.

_ Why are you running, Arya? Ladies do not run. _

The familiar voice chilled her to the bone, but she refused to stop and address her mother. Catelyn Stark was dead, dead and buried for years now. So why could Arya still hear her voice as clearly as she could in life? 

_ Come home, Arya. Just come home with us. _

Tripping over a loose stone, she landed heavily on her knees, tearing the flesh in her haste to stumble to her feet. A translucent hand touched her shoulder, freezing her in place. Feeling like a puppet with cut strings, she could not climb to her feet no matter how much she struggled to get her body to obey the command. Instead, her head turned back without her consent, turning to stare upon the shades gathered behind her in rows. 

Black holes took the place of eyes. Ethereal at first with their glowing bodies, Arya could see through them as surely as their sightless eyes peered into her soul. She shivered, refusing to drop her gaze out of stubbornness even as every nerve within her commanded her to look away.

They had come for her at last. 

Her mother and father, Robb and Rickon, the girl with the wooden horse. All those she had failed to save stared back at her, judgment written clearly in their stances. 

Amassed behind those she had cared for stood all the men, women, and children who had fallen by her hand, many with holes from where Needle had slid easily into their bodies. Is this what her revenge had wrought? 

Frozen as she was on the ground, she could do nothing as they approached, lying their flesh-less hands on her body, dragging her ever deeper into their realm. 

Blood oozed from the wound in her side, covering her hands with the sticky substance. She could never be clean. Her hands were stained beyond redemption. 

There was nothing for it but to grit her teeth. “Not today,” she whispered resolutely. “You won’t take me today.”

***

Jolting awake, her head smacked the ledge hanging lowly over her bed. Muttering a curse, she rubbed at the sore spot as her eyes adjusted to the light in her cabin. Absently, her hand strayed down to her side, feeling for a wound she knew would not be present. It was the same way every night, the spirits came for her the moment her eyes closed with sleep. She ran and fought, cursed and pleaded, and yet nothing she did ever halted their pursuit of her.

Night terrors were common enough for Arya, though she tried not to let them bother her during the day. The crew depended on her for guidance. If they thought she was weak...No matter they were men whom Bran had entrusted to her, she was certain from their wary glances when she gave orders that they would betray her if given the chance. 

Betray her to whom exactly was an answer she hadn’t yet worked out. But just because the Six Kingdoms were now at peace and allied with the North did not mean peace had been achieved everywhere. Besides, how long would the peace truly last? 

She trusted Bran to rule wisely, trusted Sansa to keep the North safe and prosperous, but it was the nature of men to find something to fight over. Perhaps she should not have left, but after a few days spent wandering the remains of Kings Landing, of seeing the desolation and destruction, spying the bodies lying broken in the streets, she needed to get away. 

According to her family, peace would last. But what did any of them know about peace? Peace never lasted for long. So she had found the first ship and crew willing to cross through uncharted waters and sail west with her. There was an entire new world to explore! Why shouldn’t she be the one to discover it for Westeros? 

But no matter how she distracted herself by plotting out courses, conversing with the crew, or practicing with Needle out on the deck under the heavy sun, she could never get rid of the prickling guilt that she was simply repeating old patterns. 

Her mind strayed back to another time, another life, when she ran freely through the Red Keep chasing feral cats. Oh the exhilaration when she caught them one by one! She proved with each captured cat that she was faster than them, more cunning in her pursuit. 

Yet now she felt to be the one being hunted, chased down by these spirits no matter how quickly and cunningly she ran. But Arya Stark would not be caught.


	2. Chapter Two: I Am No One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than I would have liked, but content-wise it felt important to leave it as a standalone chapter. Next chapter will be longer, I promise.

Over the course of the two weeks already spent transversing the wide seas in search for new lands beyond Westeros, all that Arya had seen was a large expanse of water. No land graced the horizon tempting sailors into its bounteous ports. Bran had supplied Arya with enough rations to last a few months, so she had no worries regarding the time at sea. 

Yet some of the crew were less inclined to be patient. Tempers had started running high, more and more fights had to be broken up with a stern word from Arya or the ship captain. Her reputation served Arya well as none of the sailors dared argue with an order she had given. Simply standing on the main deck was enough to send most crew members scurrying back to their posts, eyes downcast to avoid her gaze.

It was unsettling. Having innocent people afraid of her made her stomach twist in knots. Often, those of the lower-classes had opened up to her, even forming friendships. But on this ship, she felt for the first time in awhile the agonizing burden of being a noble. A sister to the King of the Six Kingdoms no less, as well as sister to the Queen in the North.

As her family had risen, she too had been forced to stand above others, a placement she had never asked for and for which she felt growing resentment.

Standing at the prow of the ship, Arya looked out at the peaceful waves stretching out as far as she could see. Water lapped gently at the boat as they continued to sail through the sea, guided by a steady wind coming from the east. 

Dressed in her casual traveling leathers, she felt much more comfortable than when she had departed from Westeros wearing the finery of a noble bestowed on her by her family. Even then it had seemed she needed to make a statement, an acknowledgment that she was still a lady of house Stark. Except she was not a lady.

If she had been...But no, she banished the thought before it could tie her up in doubt. Gendry had wanted to make her a lady, to have someone to tend his home now he had been raised to the level of a lord. 

The proposal had caught her entirely off guard. One moment she had been practicing, shooting arrow after arrow into the middle of a far-off target, and the next he was kneeling before her, professing his love. Love. As if anyone could ever really love her. No, he had loved the idea of her - had loved the challenge of taming her wildness. If he had truly loved her as he confessed, he would have never asked such a thing. 

Being a lady had never been in her plan. Now, after all she had seen and done, even if she had desired a simpler life there was no helping it. She had long ago chosen the path she would tread. There was no going back.

If only…

She shook her head, muttering a curse under her breath. It didn’t do to dwell on what ifs. Her family was safe and happy, that was all that truly mattered. So what if she spent her days wandering, searching for an emotion she could not name, desperately seeking for something to fill the hole in her heart?

Recalling the day she had set sail from Westeros, she remembered clearly the smiles and tears given as each sibling hugged the other, wishing them good fortune in their endeavors. It felt...odd. After so long seeking one another, and against all odds finding each other alive and well, the pack had split. Weren’t they meant to stay together, to protect and serve one another? 

But no one had asked her to stay. Bran was too busy thinking of how best to unite the six kingdoms under his rule. Sansa too proud of how far she had come, how she had fulfilled Robb’s wish, how together they had made the dream of a separate North a reality. Jon...well if he guessed she was unhappy with the present circumstances he did not say. Not that she blamed him: he had lost the woman he loved, first to pride and then to death. 

No other choice lay before her, so Arya had set sail. She hoped the distance from Westeros, the place that had caused her so much hardship, would help banish the demons that hung around her. But still the spirits chased her, across land and sea, driven to drag her into their ever-swelling ranks. 

When she closed her eyes she could see them clearly. Yet in her dreams, their eyes were blue as crystalized ice. Specters loomed large in her mind, slowly tearing down the defenses she had erected as she grew in strength, learning how to banish fear from her mind. 

Once upon a time, she had been Arya Stark of Winterfell. As the days changed, as the old guard gave way to new reigns and a new day, she felt herself drifting farther and farther away from herself. Perhaps setting aside your past and identity was not truly how you lost yourself. 

Standing on this ship, thinking back on her life, she was closer to No One than she had ever been.


End file.
